


The Wind Blows Differently Here

by WitchyWriter



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Dialogue Heavy, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slurs, They Just Want A Drink, this took me too long to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyWriter/pseuds/WitchyWriter
Summary: Tired, hungry and in desperate need for a drink, Geralt and Jaskier (with their complicated relationship in tow) try to settle into the first town they find after a long journey. This town however, doesn't take to them too kindly.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 190





	The Wind Blows Differently Here

**Author's Note:**

> If it's any consideration to anyone offended by homophobic language written, I'm a queer person.

Geralt was in rare form today. He woke up in a state of content, the wind blew just a bit cooler and the birds sang a little bit louder. It was the type of good mood which made his grunts just slightly higher in pitch and let him lighten up enough to allow Jaskier to hop on Roach behind him. Not enough of a good mood though, to tolerate the bard’s incessant humming and constant fidgeting. 

They had decided long ago that they were to ride together and drink together and ever so occasionally sleep together. The latter had become more common in recent weeks and, to both of their surprises, neither were complaining. The newfound intimacy was something strange for Geralt; he didn’t know how to handle being cared about, let alone caring for someone else. And it was no secret that he would protect Jaskier ferociously; the Witcher had already killed three men who decided that attacking him for singing was a better use of their time. He didn’t feel an ounce of pity for them and refused to accept any thanks in the matter. There was no heroism, it had become another job of his.

“I’ll make you get down, I mean it this time.” Geralt turned his head to the side and scowled. They were so close to the next town and it was in these last few minutes that Jaskier started to move around. It jostled the whole saddle and made his hand’s slip and slide around Geralt’s waist; if he wasn’t so annoyed, he would’ve broken out into a hearty laugh. 

Jaskier leaned back and felt the wind in his hair, it was a rare opportunity to be so high up, so every second was one to soak in. “Oh spare me the bared teeth. You’ve been saying it for the last hour and if you meant it then, you must be _extra _serious now.” He pulled Geralt into a hug from behind and laid his head on his back. “Besides, I know you can’t stay mad at me for too long anyway.”__

__“Watch me.” He grumbled, shimmying his shoulders in a poor attempt to shake Jaskier off; though he enjoyed the warmth making its way up his spine._ _

__Geralt stayed silent the whole rest of the way to town, ignoring each and every one of Jaskier’s questions and the feeling of fingers grazing his sides. The town came into the view at the bottom of the hill they had been climbing for hours. It was bigger than the last and one could see just from the construction that they had their fair share of coin. This place seemed untouched from the sin and brutality of places they’d been for. The grayscale that seemed to follow them faded along with the sunset. Maybe they’d make it out without a bloodstain on their chins._ _

__Geralt sighed, this place would have the best ale he’d had in weeks._ _

__They rode onto the main road and caught the stares of people as they passed by. The townspeople had heard tales of The Witcher and though grateful for what he’d done for others; they didn’t know what to do with the sight of him at their front steps. He had not yet fully untied himself from his reputation in Blaviken._ _

__Roach came to a halt at the first inn they saw, quite larger than the ones they’d been to in recent months. People loitered outside, tankers in hand and giving them both the once-over. Jaskier hadn’t let go of Geralt’s waist and a small group of men had begun to stare. A relationship such as their’s was fairly uncommon if not rare to people in this neck of the woods, especially one with a Witcher in the mix._ _

__“Let me go, I have to tie up Roach.” Geralt said lowly, looking carefully at the small group near the inn. The last thing he wanted to do today was fight, he was far too tired and in far too much need of a drink._ _

__Jaskier slid his hands from around him and started to reset Geralt’s ponytail, he could see the men watching them and paid no mind, “Give me a second, you’ve made a mess of your hair in that wind. We’ve got to look our best for these lovely people, never know who could be-”_ _

__Geralt shook his head aggressively and turned to face him, “Let. Me. Go.”_ _

__“Alright alright! Look like a mess, I don’t care!” Jaskier held up his hands defensively and dismounted Roach. He had gotten used to the looks from strangers and all it did was drag out whatever he was told to stop doing. Confusing people had become a part of his identity along with being a nuisance, and neither bothered him as much as Geralt being mad at him. He’d sooner risk getting punched by a drunk than the cold shoulder in bed._ _

__Geralt turned from the group with a grumble and started to settle Roach into the inn’s stable.With no sense of urgency or trepidation, Jaskier milled around the front and tuned his lute._ _

__“What’re you doing hanging around that Witcher? Didn’t think people like you had a taste for danger.” One of them slurred, he was a large man with black palms and an apron. The local blacksmith, who amongst the locals, had a reputation for his temper._ _

__“People like me?” Jaskier didn’t like the look on his face and moreso hated the tone of his voice. He returned the lute to his back and took a few steps toward the men. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”_ _

__Another man leaned forward, ale caught in droplets in his beard and a look of indifference glazed his eyes, “I think you know what he meant, bard.”_ _

__“No, I don’t think I know what he meant. Please, spell it out for me!” Jaskier’s face hardened as he took another step forward. There was a burning sensation in his gut, not of nerves, but of a building storm. Jaskier also had quite the temper methodically dulled under his cheeky demeanor._ _

__Geralt could hear the beginnings of a fight from the stables and groaned, this is what he had hoped to avoid. It seemed that wherever Jaskier went, an argument soon followed._ _

__The men looked to eachother and laughed, one mumbling the prelude of a fight under his breath. Before knuckles could clench, Geralt appeared behind Jaskier and put a hand on his shoulder, startling him. “What’s so funny gentlemen? I could use a laugh.” The mumbling stopped and silence followed, for the men were too drunk and too emboldened to fear the amber eyes tearing them limb from limb with each blink. Their group had been brought down to only a pair, Geralt’s presence causing their posse to slowly slip into the cracks of encroaching darkness._ _

__Gerald looked down at Jaskier, the bard’s face turning a shade of dull red and huffing as though he’d run a marathon. He had never seen him like this, and though he found it cute, the accumulation of rage would surely incapacitate him. “These fuckers think something is funny about us traveling together! All I asked was to be let in on the joke.” Jaskier’s voice took an apathetic tone, his eyebrows raised as turned back towards them, “Though, I doubt they’ll have the balls to say it with you here.”_ _

__The men broke out into a fit of slightly slurred laughter, “Oh it seems like the fairy’s guard dog has finally showed up. Shame a grown man can’t fight his own battles.” The blacksmith took a swig of his ale and laughed into the mostly empty cup, proud._ _

__Before Jaskier could get his lute from over his shoulders, Geralt had already seized him. He grabbed the man both by his shirt collar, tanker falling to the ground and a look in his eyes that stopped him from even breathing a hair too loud. He leaned in close the blacksmith’s face, the scent of sour ale and charcoal emanating from his beard, “I am no one’s guard dog, pig. What I am though, is probably the only man within a mile of this inn that wouldn’t hesitate to kill you right here and now. Drunk, slobbering, and alone with no friends with balls big enough to do a thing but sit back and watch.” Geralt took him into a headlock and forced him to turn and face Jaskier. “My friend on the other hand, is perfectly keen to knock you on your ass without breaking a sweat.”_ _

__The man groaned from under his grip and started to smack his arms. “I get it! I get it!” He let out in a choked muffle._ _

__Jaskier snorted and walked towards him, leaning down and smiling in his face, “Does the fairy need help?” He was annoyed that Geralt didn’t let him throw the first punch and catch the bastard by surprise, but mocking him would have to suffice._ _

__The man said nothing in response, now suffocating and embarrassed. Geralt’s stomach rumbling did that for him, and he suddenly remembered that not only was he in dire need for a drink; he also hadn’t eaten since yesterday. As much as he wanted to make the man grovel, Geralt ultimately decided that it simply wasn’t worth the effort._ _

__“Say goodnight Jaskier.” Geralt gestured with his head at the man starting the turn purple under his arm._ _

__“Are you not going to beat the shit out of him?” Jaskier put his hands on his hips and sighed, “I was hoping for a good show, you know, a little mix up from the monsters.”_ _

__Geralt made a clicking sound with his tongue, slamming his fist down on top of the blacksmith’s head and knocking him out cold. He kicked the tanker towards his limp hand and wiped his palms on his chest, “Now, now. We have to look our best for these lovely people, remember?”_ _

__Jaskier rolled his eyes and wiped the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his hand. “Shut the fuck up, I need a drink.”_ _

__“Language!” He laughed deeply as he watched Jaskier’s face fade from its angry crimson to an annoyed pink._ _

__“Choke.”_ _

__Geralt took the bard under his arm and leaned down to kiss his forehead, making the annoyed pink fade into a soft blush. “Such harsh words for someone who just saved your pretty face. I should leave you all by yourself next time.” He turned away and opened the door for Jaskier, hardening his face in preparation for the room of strangers._ _

__Jaskier walked past him and slipped into the dark inn, looking back at Geralt and whispering, “You think I’m pretty?” He put a hand to his chest and closed his eyes dramatically, “If I wasn’t still so pissed, I would weep.” Geralt followed him, mouth open to say something back, but before he could give some smart retort, he couldn’t help but notice the inn’s main room had fell silent with their arrival._ _

__The room was small, a striking difference compared to its massive outer shell. This tightness however, didn’t stop the room from being filled corner-to-corner with what appeared to be the whole town. The crowd did as the men outside had, looked them up and down with their noses tilted to the ceiling and a slight puff of their chests._ _

__“Fuck.” Geralt mumbled his breath. He rarely felt fear, he most likely wouldn’t be able to identify the feeling if he did, but the looks of these strangers made his nerves creep into his fingers. He had grown too tired to clench his hands into fists and for once just truly wanted to sit down on something other than Roach._ _

__A sneer in their direction told him that this would indefinitely remain a dream of his._ _

__Jaskier was his antithesis, leaving the presumed safety of his companion’s side and wandering with an air of confidence right to the bar. All he cared about was a plate of whatever they had behind the counter and a tanker of alcohol to match. “Oi! I’ll have a plate of something hot and a pint of something cold!” He was jovial and tried his hardest to not snap at the men moving away from him at both sides. Though he was used to it by now, the utter lack of subtly made him want to throw something._ _

__The barkeep wiped out an empty tanker with a rag, not looking in his direction, “You won’t find any of that here lad. I suggest you try the next town over.”_ _

__“Do I look like a beggar to you?” Jaskier pulled three coins from his pocket, plenty for whatever bowl of gruel and cup of watered down ale they served, “I’ve got the coin and the appetite; and I’m not in the mood to ask again.” There was no hiding his irritation, if he had the patience to veil it at all._ _

__Geralt sighed again and started to make his way over to the bar, being stopped almost immediately by a triad of locals stepped between him and the dark counter. They were scraggly men, most likely farmers, (he didn’t care enough to ask) and halfway to a drunken nap. It was an amusing sight, three men standing no higher than his chest barring their swords and sneering at him as though they stood a chance. All he wanted was a damned drink and if he could only get five steps ahead, everyone could walk out of here alive._ _

__He coughed into his hand and attempted to slide between them, “If you’ll excuse me, my friend needs me.” Patience and curtesy was something foreign to him and given the men’s lack of movement, Geralt was no good at playing pretend. They pulled closer together, shoulder to shoulder and tried to size him up. He cocked his head to the side and watched them in amusement; they reminded him of trolls. When he’d finally had enough of being analyzed, he straightened up and shoulder-checked his way through the triad. “That wasn’t a request.”_ _

__Jaskier turned to face him and to his own surprise forgot that Geralt was even there. A wave of relief washed over him with the mild tones of affection riding its coattails. On a normal day, whatever that meant for them, this sensation would be expressed with a kiss met with a lackluster grumble. However, this was not a normal day, and he was in no mood for kissing._ _

__“Fantastic!” Jaskier clamped his hand down on Geralt’s shoulder, smiling with a glint of hardly contained rage and twitching eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to explain your behavior to the two of us, I’d really love a bedtime story.” He looked to the barkeep and raised an eyebrow, expecting the usual hesitation that came with facing Geralt as a stranger._ _

__The barkeep though was unafraid and unwavering, answering before Jaskier released the final syllable, “Gladly. I’ll try and make this as crystal clear as possible gentlemen,” His eyes fell into slits, “We don’t serve your kind here.”_ _

__Geralt was used to this and took it with minimal offense, “Hm, Witcher’s? How original.”_ _

__“No, faggots.”_ _

__They both froze, the room around them suddenly becoming stifling and its small walls seemingly trapping Jaskier within them. He had heard whispers of the word under schoolchildren’s breaths in his younger years, it haunted him from his earliest memories. But, he hadn’t heard it in a long time and foolishly thought he had escaped it. There was a sense of shame, a feeling he had never become fully acquainted with and one he soon wished to part with. The man might as well have punched him straight in the face and judging by the small smile cloaking his lips, it’s exactly what he intended to do._ _

__Geralt, though thoroughly caught off guard, did not feel the same sense of shame and frigidness. Whatever heat Jaskier had felt around him had been the pure anger radiating off of the Witcher’s body. It was an anger not only born of being insulted to his face, which was a brave choice for any human, but also for wounding his partner. He sensed the air shift around him and heard the low stammering as he searched for what to say next, which was hard to do; Jaskier was never at a loss for words._ _

__He took a step closer to the bar, cracking his knuckles discretely at his side and taking note of all of the weapons in the room. Every man, woman, and inappropriately present child had a blade of some sort. This was not a place for brawl, even if Geralt was confident he could handle himself, he knew Jaskier could not._ _

__“I see.” He knocked a full pitcher of ale down with a gentle tap, sending it flooding down the counter and pooling itself at the barkeep’s feet. There was a sword unsheathed behind him, his ears perking up like a cat as he turned around and pushed Jaskier towards the door. The blade swung through the air and stuck itself straight into the spot the bard had been standing. Had he been a second too late, Jaskier would have lost an ear._ _

__He, who wasn’t paying attention in the first place, had a dull ringing in his ears and shaking fingers taking up most of his focus. Jaskier couldn’t breathe and watched with desperation as Geralt heard-butted his attacker and yell something to the barkeep; the words coming out as if they were underwater to him._ _

__“We didn’t want the piss you call ale anyway!” Geralt grabbed Jaskier by his elbow and started towards the door, breaking the shin of a man who tried to stop them with a swift kick. He turned around before they went out into the barely moonlit night, “And I saw a Mula in the woods surrounding your shitty town when I arrived, handle that one by yourselves you fucking jerkoffs!” There was a scared female voice that cried out to them, clearly nervous with Geralt’s lie but rather than stop and watch the groveling, he pressed on and laughed as the door slammed behind them._ _

__Geralt wasted no time untying Roach and getting the saddle in place; if any town were to get together an angry mob in their honor, it would be this one. He was so caught up in getting out of there, he hadn’t taken notice to Jaskier’s shaking frame and cold hands._ _

__He stopped and looked around, listening quickly for the sounds of ambush, “What’s wrong?”_ _

__Jaskier said nothing in response. A stick crunched in the close distance, making them both jump slightly. Geralt didn’t hesitate and picked Jaskier up by the hips, gently tossing him onto Roach, “This is going to have to wait until later. Can you hold on tight for me?” His voice was soft as he mounted the horse, turning around and looking into Jaskier’s eyes for any kind of sign._ _

__He nodded slowly and laid down on Geralt’s back, not caring or really noticing the crowd that had formed to watch them leave._ _

__A myriad of things were screamed in their direction as Geralt rode them back into the forest in which they came from. Some being as laughable as “baby-eater”, which Geralt had never heard of himself before; and others he wished to forget that made the man attached to his back flinch with their utterance._ _

__They rode for what felt like hours, the village fading from a subtle glow to a spot on the horizon. In a tree covered clearing, Roach had begun to slow down in her own exhaustion and need for rest. With no ale to keep them going, both Jaskier and Geralt had started to fade in and out of sleep in their own right and, whether they wanted to or not, it was time to make camp._ _

__Geralt swayed side to side, trying his best to wake his partner without scaring him, “Hey, I’m going to make camp, need anything?”_ _

__Jaskier yawned into Geralt’s shirt and rubbed his eyes, “No, no. I’m fine, great, one hundred percent. Just needed a but of a power nap. ” He tried his best to laugh off his earlier displays of emotion with a quick smile; successfully convincing neither of them._ _

__“Roach isn’t going anywhere, I’ll take care of everything tonight.” He hopped down and brought Jaskier’s knuckles to his lips, making the bard relax for the first time all night. Satisfied for now, Geralt gave his hand a final squeeze before breaking off to make a fire._ _

__Setting up camp didn’t take long, for at this point Geralt had become a master at it. Despite his quickness however, Jaskier had managed to fall asleep again; this time sitting completely upright. He watched him slump down slowly, snoring loudly and perk himself right back up in a second of consciousness for twenty whole minutes, laughing to himself and trying to figure out the best way to get him down._ _

__He didn’t need any more assessment though, as Jaskier had promptly scared himself awake by sliding straight off the saddle._ _

__“Woah, woah!” Geralt caught him before he hit the ground and smiled at the contact. This smile quickly faded into a look of concern as he caught the reflections of a tear in the moonlight. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” Geralt looked over his body for any sign of blood or twisted anything, only to find nothing at all._ _

__Jaskier righted himself in a huff of embarrassment and pulled away from Geralt’s soft grip, “I’m fine! I just yawned, get off of me.” He stomped towards the fire and sat down with his knees pulled to his chest._ _

__He didn’t know what to do, never had anyone other than the desperate villager cried in front of him before. But he cared for Jaskier and that need to protect him cloaked his doubt in persistence and furrowed brows. “No, you’re not.” He followed close behind and kneeled at his side, one hand squeezing Jaskier’s shoulder assuringly. “Did those jackasses really get to you?”_ _

__He laughed dryly, more to himself than at the question, “They didn’t get to me, but they remind me a lot of another group of assholes.”_ _

__Geralt could see the beginnings of a story flash across his face and sat down with his legs parted; a quiet invitation, which was accepted, for Jaskier to get closer. The bard made himself comfortable against Geralt’s chest and sighed at the feeling of security he felt with the much larger arms surrounding him. “Do I have to meet this group of assholes?”_ _

__“Unfortunately, they’re all already dead. It was this group of shitheads from my village growing up; they made fun of the way I talked, the way I walked, even down to how I moved my hands. Every single day they’d follow me around and say some new creative thing to make me scared to leave my house. Once they even threatened to kill me. It got to the point that other people in the village started to suspect things and soon enough, by the ripe old age of thirteen I was the town’s hot topic. With all the time I spent in the house, I learned to play the lute well enough that I decided to leave home three years later and try and make something of myself.” Geralt didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue, his voice had begun to crack and his lips started to tremble. “I came home after a year away to show them that I hadn’t grown into some dirty vagrant. Not only did those same assholes beat me half to death and call me - that - in the middle of it all; but that’s also how I learned that I was an orphan.”_ _

__Geralt didn’t know what to say or what to do besides hold Jaskier close to his chest and listen to him breathe shakily as he finally broke down and cried. He knew that nothing he could imagine saying would make him feel any better or fix anything, words weren’t exactly his forte. “I- I’m sorry…are you sure they’re all dead?” Geralt cursed himself for asking immediately, only to be surprised by the laughter coming from underneath him._ _

__“I killed them myself, so yes, they’re very dead.”_ _

__“Hm.” Geralt was shocked, not only because he was laughing but also because Jaskier didn’t look to be the killing type. Though that assumption was quite obvious to them both._ _

__Jaskier looked up at him and smiled, “There was a mysterious fire that only scorched their row of houses. Really a tragedy, shame no one looked into it.” They stared at eachother for a beat before breaking out into a fit of laughter._ _

__“That wouldn’t have been my personal choice, but whatever works I guess.”_ _

__The bard pulled away from Geralt’s chest and leaned on his elbow, face scrunched in amused confusion, “You watched me try and swing a sword _yesterday _, try and imagine what I looked like at sixteen.”___ _

____“I’d rather not- don’t hit me! I’m sure you were quite terrible.” Geralt kissed the top of Jaskier’s head and took one of his hands into his own, “You really have to let me teach you, you’re going to be caught without me one of these days and what will you do then?”_ _ _ _

____“I can make a fire rather quickly you know.” He leaned back down, falling like a puzzle piece between Geralt’s legs and looking up at him, “And my lute is heavier than you think.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh is it now?” Geralt smiled and brushed a stray hair behind the bard’s ear. His warm glow had returned, any hues of red fading along with the firelight. They were both tired, the skin around Jaskier’s eyes weighing heavily and threatening to fall shut. Geralt felt the aches of riding all night in his sides and the bliss of sleep seemed sweeter the longer they stayed locked together._ _ _ _

____Jaskier leaned in and closed the gap between them, “Yes, yes it is.”_ _ _ _

____“You really should teach me then.” Geralt was only half joking._ _ _ _

____“Shut up.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re so cruel to me.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Please _, Shut up.”___ _ _ _

______“That’s better.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The kiss was long and sweet and meaningful, holding them both pleasantly captive and with no rush to break away. It marked of the end of Jaskier’s painful story and more than that a look to the future. A future in which no one could hurt him anymore. A future where neither of them had to worry about being alone again._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
